A Truth That's Hard To Swallow
by TharaCorleone
Summary: A fic looking into the past of the Montana involving (a kid) Tino, Don and Veccio.


*Please note: This fic is set in the past (around the year 1988, 1989) so quite a lot of headcanon revolving around the Montana won't exist yet.

-

The first few weeks after Tino (or Martino if he was in trouble, especially with Don) was adopted into the Montana by Don were not simple, to say the least. Not only had the clan had to deal with an increased intake of meat but they'd had to deal with a constant and disturbing question when the ten-year-old found himself near fleshen evidence.

"Can I eat that?"

As he glanced at the stiff, cold body in its canvas bag, Don couldn't help but feel his attention drift to the ten-year-old body who was curiously stood besides him. Had he really just asked that question or was the stress of being the head of the family making him hear things again? He found himself shaking his head, confusion etched on his aging face.

"Martino, what are you on about?"

"I'm only asking if I can eat that."

Hearing the words escape the ten-year-old's mouth, Don wasn't sure whether to take it with a chuckle or get really worried really quickly; doing neither as he managed to remain calm, he turned to Tino as if he'd simply been asked to have the salt passed to him.

"Well you can't," Don then replied, his tone a little awkward but still strongly authoritative. "You don't know where it's been."

"Do I look like I care where it's been?" The young male replied rather bravely, not even backing down a little when he was face-to-face with the older male's stern stare.

"The last place I want you going is the hospital, you caused enough trouble last time you were there."

"So what _can_ I do then?"

"What you can do is go play with the others," Don then said, shooing his 'son' away. "I think they're upstairs on that NES with their Stupid Mario Brothers."

"_Super_ Mario Brothers," Tino replied, gently correcting him. Don was already fifty years old and whilst he was still as sharp as a pin when it came to the business, he wasn't entirely clued on the popular culture side of things.

"There's nothing super about them," he retorted, almost through gritted teeth. "All those bums do is jump around and eat mushrooms."

Watching his 'son' dawdling up the stairs and sounding rather bitter in his muttering, Don shook his head as if he couldn't believe what had transpired in the last five minutes.

"And to think that he could be the head of this family one day," he then muttered, shuddering at the very thought.

"Having trouble with the young signorino?"

Appearing from nowhere, Veccio had brought himself into the picture; placing a hand on the younger male's shoulder, he couldn't help but shake his head at Don's sudden shock in a rather frustrated way.

"Veccio, you gotta stop doing that and scaring the merda out of me."

"The signorino been poking around in the darker side of the business?" He simply asked, almost as if he wasn't surprised if that was the case.

"No, he was asking if he could eat that," Don explained, pointing out the body bag behind him. "Of course, I said no for the obvious reasons."

"You know, Gino and Maria's little abnormality could have his uses."

It wasn't often that Don was lost for words, but he found it difficult to respond to Veccio's suggestion with nothing but a cautious '...what?'.

"The rivers aren't always going to be free and we're not always gonna get our hands on concrete," the older male began, slowly and deliberately. "We have ourselves someone who'll happily consume human so why not let him get rid of the evidence for us?"

"Because I'm not gonna let him grow up to be some cannibalistic bum," Don retorted, sighing in irritation.

"Donato, you act like one measly taste of flesh is gonna render him...largely immobile," the older male explained, sounding a little awkward. "Have you not heard of good things in moderation?"

"This isn't a good thing though," was the still irritated reply. "In fact, this should never have happened. He should be with his own family now but Gino let that weirdo bum play hypno on his son."

"It's still a good thing for us," Veccio said, smiling rather slyly. "Let's see the Sentinel try and pin the dead bodies on us now."

"But Veccio-"

Don may have been a mob boss at the top of his game, but it only took one stare from the elder male to silence him.

"When have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" He asked, rather calmly. "Besides, your father wouldn't have had such a mental mess about this."

It had been somewhat of a dick move played by Veccio to bring Donato's father into the situation; respected by the entire family and surpassed by none, he'd had such reason and luck on his side that the term 'father knows best' had actually meant something to his children, Donato and Filomena. Filomena's faith in her father had been shattered when he'd refused to listen to her and had gone ahead with sending Fabio to his icy fate but Donato was still keen to follow his father's logic even fifteen years after his death.

At that moment, Tino raced down the stairs and into the kitchen, eager to grab himself what looked like a glass of water; chugging the liquid down like it was nothing and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he couldn't help but feel his attention drifting to the bodybag once again as he plonked the glass onto the counter.

"You can eat it."

His head quickly turning to face his 'father', the young blonde couldn't help staring as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"What?"

"You can eat it," Don repeated, just about managing to hide the disgust in his voice.

"Buona! I'm taking this up to the kitchen and seeing if I can slice him up," Tino said, smiling warmly as he managed to hitch the body bag onto his shoulder.

"You can take it to the basement," his 'father' protested, sounding serious. "I'm not having that stink up the whole casino, it's a busy gambling night tonight. Plus the incinerator's down there so you can actually cook it."

"The smell's not going to travel _that_ far, stupido," Tino responded, his insolent, hushed tones not going entirely unnoticed.

"Martino Martinet, you show your father some respect," Veccio retorted, sounding deadly serious. "They say that you get what you give and you want to hold respect when you're head of the family, si?"

"Illegitimacy threatens the position of a family," the young blond then responded, as if it was simple maths. "You even told me that yourself, Veccione."

"It's Veccio," the eldest male sighed, correcting him.

"Whatever. But the point still stands that I'm never gonna be head of the family. Consigliere, maybe, depends on who ends up being next in line but never the Don."

He turned his face away, seeming angrily upset at himself but doing his best not to cry and look weak. Without warning, he then dropped the bodybag onto the floor and made it clear that he was disinterested in the whole situation.

"I'm going back upstairs," he muttered, refusing to look either Don or Veccio in the eye as he began to make his way up the stairs.

"What about-?"

"I'm not hungry anymore," he replied, stopping for a split-second so his words could be heard over his footsteps on the wooden panels leading to the upper floor.

The two elder males weren't the type to chase after the younger ones when they were feeling rejected and that moment was no different; staring up the stairs in stunned silence, they knew that Tino was tougher than the other Montana males gave him credit for. He'd wallow in self-pity for a few moments and then go find his 'brothers' to cheer himself up. However, a distinct lack of laughter after ten minutes meant only one thing as far as Don and Veccio were concerned.

It meant that a inevitably long and terrible night would be on the cards.


End file.
